


Brothers and Other Animals

by StartAnotherStory



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Anxiety, Gen, Humor, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mild Language, Minor Violence, yes beta we live like women
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:34:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 4,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25992208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StartAnotherStory/pseuds/StartAnotherStory
Summary: Forced to choose between saving a village from a blood mage and rescuing a cat, Warden-Commander Surana accidentally introduces Captain Tiddlywinks to a new use for lyrium potions.  Multiple POVs, animals of varying cuteness.
Relationships: Jowan & Surana (Dragon Age), Nathaniel Howe & Surana, Oghren & Surana (Dragon Age), Warden & Warden's Mabari (Dragon Age)
Kudos: 6





	1. In Which Our Heroes Find Themselves In Medias Res

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to HelenDamnation for the title suggestion.

_Warden-Commander Surana_

_elf, former circle mage, perpetual micro-manager, arcane warrior_

She had long ago decided that if any higher power actually existed, it must have a very strange sense of timing. Or possibly just a very strange sense of humour.

“I say we dump the cat.”

Take today, as an example. Standard day. Take the mabari for a walk to one of the villages near Vigil’s Keep. Take a friend because things always go wrong. Agree to the pressing request for help with some small matter (today’s small matter was a missing cat belonging to a human of average dangerous instability, if Surana was any judge). Get side-tracked by another matter (alleged blood mage, still pretty standard). Naturally, she had found the cat before anyone had told her about the blood mage. Four times she’d had to put it down so it could pee and four times her mabari had had to chase it out of a bush. It was a rescue-resistant cat. They always were.

“No, Oghren, you know how humans get about cats.” She ignored the muttering about how Fereldans get about mabari. 

This cat had a particularly silly name. “Captain Tiddlywinks,” she sighed to herself, rolling her eyes for the benefit of her mabari. Pogarenflimflam wuffed an agreement.

“Warden,” Oghren began. He was still calling her that, despite and probably because of how confusing it got. “That cat can’t fight a blood mage with us.” He was trying to look at her reproachfully from under his eyebrows, but the effect was ruined by various tree roots that had found their way underfoot.

“I’ll put it in my pack.”

Oghren made no reply to this, but looked dubiously at the protruding end of a staff sticking out of her pack. There were also eighteen poultices, three lyrium potions and a greataxe in there. Perhaps Oghren had a point. She sighed. “All right, we take the cat back to its home first.”

“…and leave the blood mage to terrorise the village?”

Surana stared at the cat, which stared back with a look of resigned misery. She thought briefly about sending Oghren and Pogarenflimflam back with the cat, but they wouldn’t be equipped to deal with a blood mage on their own, especially if one of them had to hold a cat in his mouth, and there was no guarantee she’d find them first. For a moment, she considered dumping the weapons at the side of the road, but that wasn’t going to happen. Part of her would always be the person she was more than a decade ago – cold, scared, hungry, and watching Alastair try to persuade her she should eat the last of the food, even if they didn’t have any more money.

“Let’s find a cave to hide the cat and the stuff in, and then we can deal with the mage.” Captain Tiddlywinks seemed to find this as misery-inducing a plan as any, so they went for it.


	2. On Flotillas

_Pogarenflimflam_

_warden, mabari, elf-dad, part-time dwarf-dad and human-dad when his Surana brings home strays, current bodyguard of the Captain of the Tiddlywink flotilla_

Pogaren had given the matter very careful consideration, and, on balance, it seemed likely that the Tiddlywink flotilla must be one of those toy ones that go on a pond. The Captain clearly hadn’t the vocal capacities necessary to command a full-size ones, and was too big to fit in the ones that go in the bath. Pogaren remembered bath flotillas from the occasion that the Howe Warden had allowed him to practice naval tactics with him at bathtime. 

Unfortunately, his Surana had walked in before they could finish assessing their respective battle plans and they had shouted at each other for a bit, and the Howe Warden had started locking the door at bathtime. Pogaren had been upset by this, but his Surana had explained that boy-wardens and girl-wardens usually didn’t go into the bathing room at the same time for some blah-di-blah reason that Pogaren had missed, because he was trying to work out how they could tell. All wardens smelled like darkspawn and wore blue armour after the Joining, and even before the joining they generally smelled of the food they ate, and there was no other way of telling them apart, so how had the Howe Waden even _known_? Possibly his Surana had meant something else. Sometimes she said things that were hard to understand. Like when she told the Howe Warden not to sacrifice himself, or storm the Black City, whatever that was.

Perhaps Captain Tiddlywinks would be interested in discussing naval matters? But no, no, the cat looked rather disinclined to do much of anything at the moment.

“Let’s find a cave to hide the cat and the stuff in, and then we can deal with the mage.” 

While Pogaren fully understood the importance of keeping things safe in order to sniff them later at a more convenient time, this plan did not seem to allow for the Captain’s becoming bored with the available smells and leaving in order to find new ones. He resolved to give the Captain a biscuit crunch. It seemed unlikely that the cat would want to play fetch with the maul for any useful length of time.

His Surana and the Oghren Warden found a cave fairly quickly. He sniffed the air in the cave, checking for anything that might pose a threat. You could find lots of threats by sniffing, especially in place like this. Giant spiders, darkspawn, posties, giant darkspawn. Did darkspawn have a postal system? Did spiders?

An important smell recalled him from his musings. People! He flicked his ears and went to investigate. There was a tang of lyrium like mages’ potions, two elves like his Surana and the Zevran, and a human like…he sniffed harder. Not like him! It was him! He bolted forward. His Surana would be so joyful!


	3. The Wardens and the Watch

_Oghren_

_father, warden, axe-wielder, best joke teller this side of Orlais, very popular with the ladies if you catch my drift, only sensible guy in this sodding party_

“Captain Tiddlywinks,” this was the same voice she used when she told them how many recruits had died during the joining. “You have widdled on my lyrium potions.”

“Just say piss,” he told her. “It’s not a kitten, you can swear.”

The look the cat gave him said that not only was it old enough to understand ‘piss’, it was old enough to remember the mage rebellion, and it had done its duty in slowing down this blight-smelling, lyrium-sipping two-legs. There would be no more of this nonsense on Captain Tiddlywinks’ watch, oh no. 

Pogarenflimflam’s barking pulled him away from the cat’s malevolent, soggy stare, and he went to investigate as the Warden-Commander sighed and tried to find some way to prevent the cat from running away.


	4. More Like Red Glyph, Am I Right?

_Sian_

_Dalish, former apprentice keeper, sister to the most annoying and also the best brother anyone has ever had_

Sian snatched up the staff as soon as the barking started.

“Hide that!” the shem urged. She elected instead to hide herself. Not starting a fight was one thing, not giving other people the option of starting one was better. She was behind a pillar when something the size of a horse thundered into the cave. The shem’s screams and her brother’s shouts made her run out, brandishing the staff.

Sion was swinging at the…thing that had knocked their human friend to the ground. Before he could strike, an axe came seemingly out of nowhere and knocked him flat. 

“The mages are in here!” 

The dwarf who had been wielding the axe jumped onto poor Sion’s back, and yet a third attacker appeared. Sian levelled her staff and released a bolt. It bounced off the newcomer’s armour and vanished into the ceiling. She readied a spell and cursed as the magic suddenly vanished. Looking down, she saw a glyph under her feet. Surely the shem hadn’t…? But no, it was the new one, the warrior.

“Templar!” she warned, and readied the staff again. Before she could move off the glyph, however, the warrior spoke.

“I’m no Templar.” She pulled off her helmet with one hand, revealing a drawn, elven face with an incomplete vallaslin over one eye. Sian didn’t find that as comforting as she could have. “However. I warn you. This is loaded.” For the first time, Sian realised the warrior hadn’t drawn her sword, and was holding something over their meagre store of lyrium potions.

“Is that…a cat?”


	5. An Absolute Shembles

_Sion_

_brother, hunter, rapidly running out of air_

“Pogarenflimflam!”

Sion hoped this was some powerful incantation in shem magic.

“Let me stand up, please.” Was he actually talking to the beast?

The suit of armour that had jumped on him after knocking the sword from his hand had only been there for a few, precious, painful seconds but it had driven all the air out of him, and things were becoming hazy.

“I think I can explain this…”

The beast moved. At least, Sion thought it moved. Perhaps it was the end of the world and instead everything but the beast was falling. Perhaps, he thought, it’s Fen’Harel. That seemed likely.

The suit of armour full of angry rocks that had settled on his back rumbled something that might have been “ayothik, arden?” and then rolled off him, allowing sweet air into his lungs again. “Sorry, friend. Er, buy you a drink?” The world slowly tilted about as he was pushed upright by unseen hands, though black dots wobbled around in his vision. “Hey, er, you ok in there?” There was more movement, and the Dread Wolf stuck his tongue up Sion’s nose. This seemed unlikely. He blinked and focused on it. It moved back a little and panted. Sian appeared beside him and jolted him awake with healing magic.

“Is your friend all right?” There was someone else in the cave with them. One of the People.

Sian put a protective arm over him. “Who are they?” she demanded of the shem, who grinned and pointed to the woman.

“This is my sister.”

There was a baffled pause, then, “What the sod was your mother?”


	6. Sister in Arms

_Jowan_

_survivor of Lake Calenhad, recovering blood mage, Fereldan, brother again_

“What the sod was your mother?” Well, that was rude.

Jowan opened his mouth to answer, but Surana go the word out a moment before him. “Surprised,” she deadpanned, and kept her eyes locked on Oghren’s for a moment before turning her head to look at Jowan. For a bare second, they kept straight faces, but then the smile bloomed out of them both.

He watched her duck to put a cat (why was she carrying a cat?) on the floor of the cave then accepted the thud as the crashed into him, hugging him as if they hadn’t seen each other for – for as long as they had. Briefly, he remembered the day he’d learned that the Wardens had vanished and the sky had been torn open. Just as briefly, strange winds howled in his ears and his body seemed to disappear into nothingness. Then she was there. Smiling, healthy, remembering their childhood jokes. He didn’t realise how hard he was hugging her until a corner of her armour scraped painfully against his ribs.

“I thought you were dead,” he managed to say. He didn’t let go.

“I’m here,” she told him, her voice completely solid. He understood. She was here. She was powerful. They would protect each other. Again. 

Over her shoulder, he watched Pogaren lope after the escaping cat and bring it back to them.


	7. Never Ask "What Possessed You?"

_Warden Pogarenflimflam_

_mabari, warrior, respected elder of the caverns, responsible for guarding the widdle prisoner, good boy_

His Jowan was back! That was good – his Surana talked about his Jowan all the time. Usually, she told the Howe Warden not to take up blood magic. But sometimes she said other things, like “the trouble with human men is that they’ll do really stupid things to show off in front of girls” and “my brother used to read me stories about that” and “I wish Jowan was here, I’m sick of doing this on my own”. She never said the last one to anyone but Pogaren. She said it more often, recently, especially when she was trying to sleep.

His Jowan was fun, too, and very considerate. Once, his Jowan had gone into the Fade for his Surana so that Pogaren didn’t have to. Or something like that. Anyway, Pogaren hadn’t had to go, but his Jowan had gone, so his Surana had been able to talk to some Redcliffe humans and one Orlesian human (Pogaren remembered that one because his Surana sometimes thought about her and said “not just the men, then” and looked cross) for a bit, and Pogaren had eaten a biscuit crunch. The biscuit crunch had been damp and smelled of elfroot, but that was good because the Fade smelled like a giant sneeze, as far as Pogaren was concerned. No wonder his Surana didn’t like it there any more.

The Oghren Warden was threatening the new elves with a good time. Pogaren didn’t know if anyone but he and his Surana really knew it was a threat, including the Oghren Warden himself, but people who shared a drink with the Oghren Warden usually regretted it afterwards. While the three of them busied themselves with Antivan Whisky and saying “um”, Pogaren went looking for the cat.

The Captain was stalking a batch of lyrium potions and looking determined. Pogaren got himself a careful mouthful of scruff and carried the seething cat back to the people. The Oghren Warden’s bag seemed like a good prison. Apart from anything else, it wasn’t likely that anyone would be able to smell the difference between the Captain’s protests and the Whisky. 

One of the new people patted him on the head and called him a good boy. He wagged at them. They seemed nice. It was a shame about the headache they were going to have tomorrow.

“He is a Fereldan dog?”

“Mabari,” the Oghren Warden explained. “Very clever. Good in a fight. Good at looking after the kiddies, aren’t you?” 

Pogaren wuffed his affirmation. He was very good at looking after kiddies. What you do is, you play fetch with them until they fall asleep, and then you carry them home on your back, and then hardly anyone is silly enough to leave their kiddies unattended for a second time around a giant dog who once fought an archdemon.

That made him think about his Alastair, who had sacrificed himself to kill the archdemon. Pogaren thought that this might be another example of what his Surana meant by “showing off in front of girls” but he wasn’t sure. He wished his Alastair hadn’t died. He had been very good at throwing his Morrigan’s staff for Pogaren to fetch. It was a good fetching stick, even if it did smell like a sneeze. His Morrigan had been cross about that, so he and his Alastair had caught a rabbit and left it in her pack for her, by way of apology. His Morrigan had accepted the apology and played chase with his Alastair to show there were no hard feelings. Pogaren had wanted to take part but the Oghren had suggested that they stand outside the blast radius, and Pogaren had thought the Oghren might get lonely on his own.

“This is Sion,” his Jowan was showing the new people to his Surana. They made polite people noises at one another and didn’t sniff. 

Pogaren took the opportunity to push the opportunistic Captain back into the bag. 

“This is Sian.” His Jowan had gone a bit pink around the ears. The Sian seemed a bit hesitant about his Surana. He didn’t hold it against them. Nobody had bothered to explain why they had incarcerated the Captain, and it must have looked odd that they had imprisoned the very cat they had set out to rescue. They weren’t to know about the widdling. If Pogaren had anything to do with it, they wouldn’t learn through practical experience.

“This is Surana, we grew up together in the Circle.” They called it ‘the’ Circle but there were lots of them, really. His Surana and his Jowan had been imprisoned in a Circle in a place called Lake Calenhad, which smelled the way Pogaren imagined that a fear demon would smell if it managed to possess Captain Tiddlywinks.

Belatedly, it occurred to him that he had not retrieved a biscuit crunch for the Captain. Widdle terror though the cat was, that was no reason to deprive anyone of a biscuit crunch.


	8. Different People, Different Needs

_Surana_

_sister, Warden-Commander, the one holding the To Do list_

The Dalish siblings intimidated Surana a bit. She wondered what they made of her half-vallaslin and her accent, and whether Sian believed Jowan’s assertion that they were just siblings. Her old habit of watching every tiny thread of information that leaked from their expressions and body language came back, but as she realised she was weaving a tapestry out of it, she pushed away the urge. She was Jowan’s sister, and always would be, even if this real – if this _Dalish_ elf with her full-face vallaslin and proper accent didn’t like her.

“Pleased to meet you. Don’t take this the wrong way, but we were told there was a blood mage…” her eyes started turning to Jowan.

The siblings reared up. “I am no blood mage!” Sian insisted, outraged.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted Jowan’s panic. She raised her hands placatingly. “I ask because we were warned there was one in the area. Could anyone have assumed any of you were a blood mage?”

They exchanged looks. Sian shrugged uncomfortably. “There aren’t many Dalish around here…”

Surana pursed her lips slightly and nodded her understanding. “All right. In that case, we were going to take this cat back to its owner and…” looking at the cat, she changed tack. “Er, Pogaren? I don’t think cats can eat Mabari crunches…”


	9. Both Alike in Lack of Dignity

_Tiddlywinks the Destroyer_

_bulwark, cat, Captain_

“Er, Pogaren? I don’t think cats can eat Mabari crunches…”

Tiddlywinks stared at the thing proffered by the Mabari. That…was food? Actual food? Blessed Andraste.

Mercifully, the ‘Mabari crunch’ was withdrawn, and the beast ate it himself. Perhaps the two-legs had a redeeming quality, if it could cause the removal of the Dread Crunch. Despite her shock, Tiddlywinks felt the need to observe the beast’s reaction. What horrors would it inflict upon his digestive system? Eyes wide and tail high, she stood on trembling legs and sniffed him. The beast had the decency to look rather shamefaced. Food, in Tiddlywinks’ exalted opinion, should only crunch if it first squeaked or squawked. Unless rocks made a sound that was beyond Tiddlywinks’ hearing, it seemed unlikely that the Dread Crunch qualified.

Having stared at the increasingly embarrassed beast long enough to establish that he was unlikely to explode, Tiddlywinks returned to the bag. She had discovered some cloth in there that was very satisfactory – her fur was dry now and it made an excellent sleeping space.

Curses! “What are you doing in there?” Unhand me, two-legs! Put me back! Grimly, she held the cloth with her claws. She would not be separated from her mattress. Pity the two-legs who tried to separate them!

“Ow! The sodding blighter bit me.” This was what they called irony, she knew, because she didn’t smell of blight and the two-legs did. It dropped her, and she landed with the cloth still in her claws. Ha! Behold, the Captain! The Destroyer! Tiddlywinks the Comfortable!

She raised a paw in order to enact the Ritual of Contemptuous and Triumphant Cleaning, and realised too late that the cloth was still attached to it. For a moment, she struggled to keep her composure. To her surprise, the beast placed one of its paws upon the blanket, allowing her to remove her claws while retaining her dignity. For a moment, they looked at one another. Perhaps, she thought, she had judged this band of reckless, evil stinking miscreants slightly too harshly.


	10. No Sleep for the Adventurer

_Sian_

_guest, mage, adventurer_

They travelled with the Wardens to the home of the understandably angry cat. It seemed to be as annoyed about being returned as it had been about everything else. Sian was glad that part of their journey was over. Surana had offered them safe lodging for the night, and the length of the journey, on top of the strain of talking to the Wardens when all she really wanted to do was sleep, had left her sick with exhaustion. Every step felt like a bolt of lightning rising up from the floor and grounding itself in her stomach. 

At some point, Sion and Jowan took her arms to help her walk. She didn’t remember arriving at Vigil’s Keep.


	11. Practice Makes Perfectly Boring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: mild panic attack. (You can skip this chapter, I won't judge.)

_The Warden-Commander_

_Grey Warden, sister, not a fan of new leather, the woman who fought the Archdemon and lived to tell the tale_

Her boots were squeaking. Not loudly enough that she had realised earlier in the day, but with just her and Pogaren alert enough to ward off danger, she wished she could be a bit stealthier. It wasn’t that she missed the old days, exactly, but it would be nice to have Leliana with her sometimes. The image of Divine Victoria skulking through the countryside in her full ceremonial robes made her smile.

Pogaren whined a query at her.

“The old days weren’t all bad,” she murmured. 

He barked a happy agreement, and some startled creature in the undergrowth ran away, setting off a chain of rustled leaves, cawing from annoyed crows, and flapping finches. So much for stealth. Behind them, Sian was stumbling and the men weren’t having much more luck. She had forgotten how nasty the after-effects of the glyphs could be. Oghren was still keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings but looked as if he could sleep for years. Still, the sight of Jowan alive and well, and apparently with enough time on his hands to make new friends and pine after women, was very welcome.

Her good mood persisted until they reached the Keep, when the old dread started to creep back. She gave orders that their guests be given quarters, made sure Pogaren had food and water, and made it to her bed before the panic started.

Sleeping was always the hardest thing. Always had been the hardest thing, ever since she’d left the Circle. Even harder than getting out of bed in the morning on paperwork day. For hours, she stared into the dark.

Waiting was harder than doing. As difficult as it was, she had got used to fighting for her right to rest. Sometimes, the fighting got boring. It needed doing, so she did it, but still. 

“You are alone, elf…” 

“Yes. So are you.”

The fear demon didn’t hesitate. They were seldom bright enough to hesitate, or to come up with fresh material, apparently. “One by one, they die, they betray you, they lea…”

She cast Crushing Prison and sighed. This was going to take ages. Something moved beside her, making her jump. Her sword was half way out of its sheath by the time she realised who it was.

Jowan nodded companionably, not the slightest bit phased. “Demon?” he asked, sympathetically. “Who’s it meant to be?”

“Long story,” she told him, sheathing the sword.

Jowan looked thoughtfully at the demon, and carefully timed a Cone of Cold to freeze it as the Crushing Prison ended. “We’ve got hours yet.” He sat down, looking around in interest at the landscape.

Surana looked at him for a moment. The boy who had elbowed other humans aside so the new girl could have some cake had come back. He had grown up, and changed, but he was still Jowan. She wondered what he saw when he looked at her now. Whatever it was, it could hold off a demon at very short notice. She shrugged and sat down. “Well, it’s like this…”


	12. Morning, People

_Sian_

_awakeish_

Morning was darker indoors than under the sky, so it was a few hours after dawn when she woke. After so long hiding with the others, it was disorienting to wake up alone. The air was still, and smelled faintly of leather and woodsmoke. Sitting up, she saw the view from the window – wherever this room was, it was high up and the builders could afford glass.

There was a soft knock at the door.

“Hello?”

The door opened, revealing a very clean, damp-haired Surana in a fresh, pressed uniform. The Warden had the unblinking, determined stare of the committed night-owl who was forcing themselves to admit the existence of hours before noon. “Morning. Want some tea?” 

Sian nodded. Something to take away the fatigue would be welcome.

“I’ll get you some clean clothes.”

She pushed herself into a sitting position and gingerly tested the temperature of the flagstones. Perhaps she hadn’t had enough sleep, after all. The flagstones were a carpet.


	13. Worse Things Happen At Lake Calenhad

_Warden-Commander Surana_

_Hero of Ferelden_

At this time every morning, she watched a random set of Wardens as they trained. It wasn’t necessary for her to watch everything, but she wanted to know if there were problems, or if anyone showed particular signs of being able to train others. Occasionally, some of her more pompous friends made utter fools of themselves, and those moments were to be cherished. Today, a knight-enchanter who had shown some promise was leading the training of a small group of mages. She led Sian to a small alcove to one side of the courtyard so she could watch while they drank their tea. A few trainees looked at her nervously, or saluted.

“You’re important here, then?” Sian asked, groggily.

Surana had forgotten that, as far as her guest was concerned, she was just some Warden or other – Jowan’s sister, nothing more. Hesitantly, she nodded.

Sian seemed satisfied with that, and looked at the training with bland curiosity. “This is based on an old magic of the People,” she observed. “You said you aren’t a Templar. Are you a mage? A knight-enchanter?”

“An arcane warrior,” Surana corrected. 

The look of mild approval on Sian’s face mollified some of Surana’s desire to make a good impression. This is enough, she thought. For now, everything is all right.


	14. Epilogue

Epilogue

_Nathaniel Howe_

_can carrier, buck stopper_

He couldn’t concentrate on the game of Wicked Grace. There was a heavy feeling in the air. They all felt it, but he wasn’t sure they felt it as keenly as he did. Nathaniel rose from his seat with an apology, to take another at the end of the bar. The air was heavy with smoke, so much so that the ale he was drinking had taken on its flavour.

Behind him, there was a flash of dull light and a sharp draft as the door opened and closed. A hush fell over the patrons. He didn’t turn, but a meaningful look from the innkeeper told him everything he needed to know.

“Are you the reason she keeps joking about human men and blood magic?” he asked, without bothering to turn his head. Chairs scraped as people moved away, but the mage was between them and the door.

There was a pause. Afraid to answer, was he, while surrounded by her Wardens?

The answer, when it came, was surprisingly angry. “Are you one who tried to kill her?”


End file.
